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FOR CALEB: TIME TO GRIEVE
Copyright 2018 Christina M. Guerrero
DEDICATION
Always for Caleb.
STORY BEHIND THE STORY
Loss.
ABOUT THE DRAFTS
Draft One:
Was a mixture of other articles in progress.
Draft Two:
Still an odd mixture; needed a lot of editing.
Draft Three:
The grief was so profound, that these articles
were difficult to write, and then difficult to edit.
This one is more like what it is supposed to be.
When I first lost Caleb, I had to survive.
I had to continue to wake up, take care of my household, pay the bills, and so many other things that were not going to stop ... just because Caleb was gone.
There was very little time to acknowledge, resolve, and heal from the loss.
When there might be time, I felt numb and could not access any emotions or words necessary for healing. Sometimes this was confusion. Sometimes this was denial. Most of the time this was shock.
Once in a while I might suddenly realize how profoundly disturbing this loss was and I would weep, but surviving was the main objective for quite a while.
Recently, I found myself thousands of days and thousands of miles away from our last, happy, in-person chat: A chat that was sweet and peaceful and wonderful and warm, and full of hope for the days that we might have together.
I found myself thousands of days and miles away from him. I was wailing and crying. I had no idea, for a few long and confusing minutes, what had happened between that last beautiful chat and the place far away from that chat.
Even when memories filled in the gaps -- way too slowly and in a patchy, frustrating way -- it was still confusing. How did we get from peacefully and happily chatting, to myself alone and making a lot of noise?
I did not understand ... could not understand ... could not grasp or follow the path from those happy, beautiful days to the present. I was noisy and could not stop screaming, albeit in a location that was mostly private, with my hands over my mouth so as not to attract unwanted attention. My enemies can rejoice over the agony and pain and confusion I experienced during these long terrible moments: I just wanted Caleb back, and still do, and I don’t understand this life without him.
Instead of this unwanted noise and situation and separation, I wanted to be with him, and chatting softly; learning about each other; sharing life experiences; having that conversation that all couples must: moving from hints about being a couple, to the actual acknowledgement of, and firm decision about, being together.
We did not get to reach that point.
After I lost Caleb, I still had to wake up, and take care of my household, and pay the bills, and survive. This was difficult, and traumatic, and almost impossible to do, in the midst of several negative life changes.
In the middle of all that, there was little to no time to process and resolve my loss. I often felt numb and shocked, and deeply confused about what had happened. As I tried to make some sense out of my loss, I was silent and staring a lot and seeking quiet places in order to take care of my life and my grief. I was in intense emotional pain; it was important to either be comforted, listened to, or given space.
Since I found very little of those things, I had to create those things for myself as a type of oasis, and in such a way and place, as the Bible says, “where moth and rust doth not rot.” Trying to find relief was like an old saying: getting blood from a stone. But almost anything is possible. In some ways, that oasis was always there. I went there, and began searching for what I needed, at the same time making that place bigger and more healing for myself.
In this oasis, at first, I found a lot of confusion and feeling disturbed, and that numbness. The numbness lasted a long time, and I was rather robotic during that time frame. Healing was necessary and more important that anything else. I should have handled this much differently. At the least, I should have taken some time off, perhaps up to a year or even more, to sleep and heal and reflect upon Caleb and our time together; there were many ways to do so. Unfortunately, for me, I did not.
This was unfortunate because I overextended myself. I needed to be in a calm, peaceful, healing environment. Instead, I continued doing what I always had, without much enthusiasm.
And then, one day, as if figuratively stumbling across some sort of finish line after a race and collapsing at the side of the road, I realized that there was never a traditional way of grieving this loss; and that I am in shock over losing Caleb, and that I need to rest, now. He is my life, and I miss him very much. I reach for him, and he is not there. He used to reach for me, and I miss that.
For some, grieving the loss of a mate may last a lifetime.
The grief is always underneath everything else. Life goes on, but I want him with me. There were so many things we did not get to talk about. Almost everything reminds me of him. I miss his eyes, and his smile, and his skin, and his laughter. I had hoped we would get married, and that we would get to experience that for at least a little while.
I think about all of this as I visit that oasis, and as I try to rest.
This is not exactly diminishing the grief and the loss and the pain.
But the oasis, as I build it and explore it, is making room for all of this and more, so that losing Caleb can be properly identified, resolved, and built into my life and who I am.
R.I.P.
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